


A Father's love

by Hekate1308



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, Gen, Post season 9 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2383544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't know who had brought him back. But he did know that he'd much rather not have returned to find Dean a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He had no idea why he was back, and he couldn't even remember Heaven, although he could certainly remember Hell. Story of his life.

But he wasn't going to question it when he had just woken up on a park bench, people running to and fro, going to work without sparing him a glance. Two suits nearly started throwing punches because they had run into one another and spiller their coffee. He was back alright.

His first thought was that he needed to find the boys. He didn't know where he was, though, and he didn't have money or a phone.

He felt dizzy as he stood up. He would have to find out where he was, and then steal some guy's wallet to get something to eat and drink. His knees felt weak when he took his first steps. Maybe he should go for the money first.

The two guys in suits were still arguing and grabbing both their wallets was way too easy. He moved towards the café he could see at the end of the street and was soon sitting in a booth, nursing a cup of black coffee and eating breakfast. He made sure no one was looking before grabbing the salt and testing it on himself. He had no reaction, which was good. He didn't want to go all zombie and start eating folks. He'd still have to check silver and holy water, but not reacting to salt was a good sign.

He felt better once he had eaten, and before leaving he hit the head and checked his reflection to make sure he didn't look any different. No, still the same old hunter who'd died God knew how long ago.

Whoever had brought him back had even put his cap on his head, without the bullet hole that should have been there after the son of a bitch shot him.

Now that he could walk without staggering, he had to find the boys. So where was he?

He grabbed a newspaper from a stand not far from the café.

He was stumbling around in Chicago. At least he wasn't in the middle of nowhere.

When he saw the date, he almost let the paper drop.

He had died over two years ago. He'd ghosted around for a while and spent some time in Hell, sure, but still. He'd died over two years ago.

That meant two years the boys had been fighting alone, with no one to look after them.

What if they were –

No. They were Sam and Dean. They always found a way out. Hell, they didn't even stay dead. He only had to find them.

It wouldn't be easy if they didn't want to be found, and they most likely didn't. So he checked into a motel. On the way, he got a burn phone.

He didn't expect anything out of calling them, and he was right. The numbers he remembered were long out of use. The same with other hunters he tried to call.

He wondered who picked up the phone when a police officer wanted to know if the agent who was investigating his case was the real deal. Maybe he could do that again. After he had found the boys. That was what was important right now.

He went out and bought more salt, as well as a silver knife and a rosary. He had to make sure he was himself before he stumbled back into their lives.

He tried everything, and it was somewhat of a relief that he reacted to nothing. But he remembered Karen. He would have to wait a few days before he could consider himself human.

That didn't mean he couldn't spend the days doing research, however.

He went to the nearest internet café, where they had thankfully still computers with buttons. He had to look for cases.

There were a few possible monsters and hauntings out there, but nothing that seemed like it would catch the boys' attention. Things seemed to be remarkably quiet. He didn't know what to think of that.

Then he found the omens.

Lightning storms, power cuts. Widespread enough that they didn't attract attention, but they told him enough.

A demon. And a powerful one at that. They boys would be on his trail.

He was absolutely sure that they had seen the signs just as he had.

He was concerned that they didn't have the Colt anymore, looking at the destruction some of the storms had caused. Whoever this demon was, he wasn't likely to let them get near enough with the knife to kill him.

Was it Crowley? No, the King of Hell knew how to cover his tracks. This demon – if he was as strong as it looked, he should too. Maybe he didn't care. That was dangerous. If he didn't care about that, he was likely out to have fun, and that was never good news with a demon.

First things first. If the boys were tracking this thing, they must be about –

About a nine hour drive from him. It could have been worse.

Reluctantly, he decided that he couldn't go immediately. Aside from the fact that he had to wait to make sure he wasn't going to turn into a zombie, he needed some clothes, some ID and some money first.

At least this whole I-am-not-sure-if-I-am-going-to-eat-brains thing gave him enough time to get equipment. Otherwise he'd have hotwired a car and been on his way.

He still did that, he had to have a transport, but he also snatched some other plates and made it demon-proof.

The next day, when he woke up in his motel room and realized that he had slept, he quickly went to work again instead of crying from relief.

He assembled a small arsenal – he always knew where to go to get a weapon, it came with being a hunter – bought a few clothes, a suit among them, and made a few IDs. He could add others if the need arose, but he hoped that it wouldn't take that long to find the boys.

After five days, he decided that he could go. Apparently he was human. He barely felt the relief he had the first time he woke up anymore; he was too focused on finally getting on the road. It was good to know that he wouldn't go postal and all, but he had to know what these two idjits had been up to since he had left.

He drove as quickly to Kingsport as he could, while being careful of the speed limit. He wasn't keen on spending his new life in jail for stealing a car.

By the time he got there, he was too tired to commence the search immediately. Why couldn't who ever brought him back have made him a little bit younger?

He found a motel room and went to sleep. The next morning, he decided that the best place to look might be the yellow pages. Sam and Dean had their own system, and they changed it often enough, but he had practically raised these boys, and he'd be damned if he couldn't find them.

There were several things they made sure of. The room had to be easy to defend, easy to leave. And it would be practical to have a diner nearby. Or a supermarket. Or anything that served pie.

Bobby went through three pages before he found a motel that he considered fitting, and just as he was about to investigate, the news came on the radio and he heard that another lightning storm had passed over a town about two hours away last night, mysteriously disappearing afterwards, leaving two dead.

He should have paid attention to the news. It fit with the other omens, which meant Sam and Dean would be gone by now.

He didn't allow himself to get angry, immediately hitting the road again.

He made it in one and a half hours, his impatience winning over his need to be careful with a stolen vehicle.

He did have something to investigate, at least, and he went to the PD immediately. He didn't care that it was already late, not when he was close.

The sheriff seemed bored and cranky, and it wasn't long before he found out why.

"Why is the FBI investigating thunderstorms anyway?"

"We just want to be – "

"Thorough, I know. That's what the other guy said."

"Other guy?"

"Agent... what was his name... really tall – "

"I know him" Bobby said quickly, because he could only mean Sam. He was in town. That was good news. It wasn't unusual for the boys to split up, so he didn't think much about it and instead found a motel. He would do the round tomorrow – with two people that could potentially be just as well be victims of the storm and the demon, with all the injuries they had, it was difficult to tell what they had died from, they weren't going anywhere soon.

He would find his boys, and they'd go from there.

The next morning he was lucky. The second motel fit all criteria, and the receptionist confirmed that there was "a big guy" living in the room nearest to the emergency escape.

It was disconcerting that he lived alone, and Bobby went to the room with a sinking feeling in his gut.

But nothing, no feeling, no premonition could have prepared him for picking the lock and stepping in the room, only to see Dean, a blade in his hand and his eyes black.

"Hi, Bobby".


	2. Chapter 2

For a moment, he thought this was Hell. He clung to the belief. He was still in Hell, and every second he would hear Crowley's voice. He had seen the boys getting turned into demons so often, it didn't matter that he had to go through it again.

But Dean stayed where he was, eyes black, smiling, and there was nothing to tell him that this was another hallucination.

It had to be. It had to be. Dean wouldn't become a demon. Dean was a good person. Even in Hell, his soul wouldn't rot.

"How did you get undead?"

He closed his eyes briefly because this sounded like something Dean would say. Even if the tone was wrong. Dean had never sounded so uncaring, so cruel.

He opened them again and there was the demon, smiling.

"I don't know". The words left his mouth without his permission. He had no intention of talking to that thing, that thing that wasn't Dean, that was posing as him.

"Doesn't matter. Too bad you're not gonna enjoy life long". It advanced towards him, and Bobby, on instinct, pulled out Holy Water and splashed it right in its face.

It didn't react. Bobby had heard of only a few demons who didn't. He had a gun loaded with silver, but it wouldn't do much good.

De – the demon wiped his face with his hand.

"That's all you got? I expected more of a fight".

He had the gun, but he couldn't. He couldn't shoot at Dean. At something that looked like Dean.

"You don't happen to know where Sammy is? I don't want to waste my time".

Sammy. Only Dean had ever been allowed to call Sam Sammy. Bobby got angry. What right had this thing to –

"I'll find him" it said, sounding bored, advancing towards him, knife in hand. Bobby moved back.

He stopped and grinned.

"First, though – "

Bobby eyed the knife. He wondered if he could keep him away with the gun long enough to flee. Probably not. And he wouldn't get far.

He had not come back from the dead to be killed. He was going to find Sam and Dean, dammit, and then they would kill whatever had dared to come here looking like the elder Winchester.

Right now, it wasn't trying to kill him. It let its hand drop, so that the blade was swinging loosely at its side.

"Let's talk".

Bobby had talked to enough demons to know they were annoying, know-it-all, cruel sons of bitches, but it was better than being sliced up, so he said, "Okay. Wanna braid our hair while we're at it?"

It was still grinning. "Don't you have questions?"

"Trust me, I know enough about demons."

"Do you know who I am?"

It was a stupid question, coming from one of them. It was only trying to anger him, and Bobby wouldn't do it the favour.

"Okay, let's try a different question". Its grin became a smile, a strangely human-looking smile that, if not for the black eyes, Bobby would have called kind. This thing was a master at manipulation.

"Am I still a better man than my daddy ever was?"

And everything went still.

They had been alone when he had said those words. Only Dean had ever heard them.

This was Dean.

Dean, his Dean, his good, wonderful Dean, had turned into one of those they hunted.

Bobby moved back without realizing it, his back hitting the wall.

Dean advanced once more, the smile still in place.

"You'll answer me, right? I can't possibly go out there not knowing..."

Wrong. This was wrong.

Torture in Hell had been nothing compared to this. He had known where he was, he had known that he would hear Crowley laughing any moment. This –

Maybe it was the newest trick? Making him think he was back on Earth? He would rather think he was going insane than believe that Dean was a demon.

But this was real. He knew it somewhere deep in his gut. He took out his gun, but even if it had had any effect, if he had had the damn Colt himself, he wouldn't have been able to shoot. Dean knew. His black eyes looked joyful.

How well Bobby remembered that expression on his face. He had seen it when Dean had been a kid and they had been throwing a ball around; when Dean got pie for dessert; when he came back from Hell and they found Sam. He was taking pleasure from torturing him now, his words stabbing him deeper than any knife could.

"I'll have to live without the knowledge, then" Dean commented and advanced. The Blade in his hand was long and strong.

He wouldn't feel much if he just stood there and took it, but he was Bobby Singer, dammit, and he had to at least try what Dean would have wanted him to do.

This wasn't Dean. This was something Dean had turned into. Dean was dead. He repeated it to himself as he brought up the gun to the creature's face.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Really? You know that's not gonna work on – "

Bobby fired. It stumbled back, but remained upright, and Bobby watched with horror as it pulled out the silver bullet between its eyes with its fingers and the wound healed instantly. Whatever this was, it wasn't a normal demon.

"Boy, what have you done?"

He didn't realize he had spoken the words allowed until Dean looked at him the way he had always done when he didn't understand something. He had raised the blade to strike, but didn't. He continued to muster him.

It gave him another stab in the heart that there was something of the kid he'd known in there, something that remembered that these words meant he'd done something stupid.

He waited. There wasn't much else he could do. He couldn't outrun it. He couldn't kill it. It wondered what Sam would do when he found his body.

Then he remembered that Sam wouldn't live to react, and it made him act. Dean was lost – but Sam was still out there, alive. If he wasn't, Dean wouldn't be looking for him.

There was every reason to think it wouldn't work, but he had to try.

Bobby began reciting an exorcism.

Dean merely laughed.

He moved towards him again, his eyes that of a predator.

"I'm disappointed, old man. That all you can come up with?"

But, despite every probability, it had been useful.

He hadn't realized that he'd stalled Dean for quite some time.

Long enough for Sam to return to his room and hear what was going on.

He barged in and fired a round of salt in Dean's chest. He reeled back in obvious pain. No matter how powerful demons were, salt hurt them.

Bobby saw Dean almost fall down in pain and every instinct in him screamed to run forward, make sure his boy was okay. Instead, he got Sam's bag, took out another shotgun and fired more rounds.

"Son of a – " Dean murmured, and only then did Bobby realize that the worst part wasn't that Dean was bleeding.

The worst part was that he was doing it silently.

Dean's chest cavity was all but open, his ribs visible, and he didn't utter a sound. Not until that soft "Son of a – "

Bobby registered they were running out of shells, but before he could signal Sam, the demon looked at them with his bloody face, deep wounds making it almost impossible to trace the face Bobby knew like his own.

He thought for a moment then said, in the same, quiet whisper, "Not worth it".

Then he was gone.

Not worth it.

He had decided it was too inconvenient for him to kill them now.

They leaned against the wall, panting.

"Bobby?"

He looked at Sam. He was confused, and he had lost weight. He looked pale too, and scared.

"Good to see you" Bobby forced out. He sounded flat.


	3. Chapter 3

Bobby sat still while Sam did the tests. Salt, iron, silver, holy water – he didn't pay attention. Like Sam, he went through the motions. Their heads were still reeling from the events of the last hour.

"You're here" Sam said eventually, astonishment in his voice. He was shaking. It was obvious that this was the first good thing to happen to him in a while, and Bobby didn't have to wonder why.

Wordlessly, he pulled him into a hug.

They stood like that for a while until Sam pulled away and asked, "I assume you have questions?"

"Understatement".

The smile Sam gave him in return was barely a smile at all, but he would take what he could get.

"Dean – " his voice broke and he had to clear his throat before continuing, "He took the Mark of Cain."

"The Mark of – " Bobby stared. It couldn't be possible. Why would he do that? The old hunter had read about Cain often, and it didn't surprise him that he was a real person; but everyone knew the story, and if there was one thing Dean wouldn't do –

What followed was a jumbled explanation of Sam's desire to die, Dean's unwillingness to let him, an angel and a demon.

Which of course prompted another explanation about the angels falling and the trials.

Figured he couldn't remember Heaven. Bobby would have been annoyed if there hadn't been more important things to consider.

"What – "

He couldn't bring himself to finish the question. His boy had turned into a demon, and he couldn't ask how. The Mark had something to do with it, but he didn't want any details, even if he had to know.

"He died". Sam all but whispered the reply, sounding lifeless. "I put him in his room" – it was the one thing Bobby had found he could be grateful for in Sam's tale, that the boys had a home – "and I tried to summon Crowley".

He stopped, apparently expecting to be admonished. Bobby would have, if he could have found the strength. But it was such a logical step – he would have been surprised if Sam hadn't tried to make a deal to save Dean. It was what these two did.

"He didn't show, but when I came back, Dean was gone" Sam continued quietly. "I searched for him for weeks. When I found him – "

He swallowed.

"He tried to – at one point, I had the knife at his throat". He didn't need to elaborate which knife he meant.

"I couldn't do it. He's my brother".

There was every reason to think that this was his brother no longer, but Bobby couldn't have done it either. Not Dean. Not the boy he had watched growing into a man, looking after his brother, sacrificing everything.

A thought struck him. He was angry that he hadn't had it before.

"What about Cas?"

"He is not answering my prayers" Sam sighed. "I have been trying to reach him. Maybe he is – "

"He's Cas. He's as unable to die as you". The amused glint in his eyes brought something of the old Sam back.

It disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Bobby cleared his throat.

"We should get out of here."

The implication was clear.

Sam shook his head.

"He'll know we protect ourselves – I admit I was a little lazy before –and he enjoys the chase" he said bitterly.

Bobby realized he'd have to get a room too. And to protect it. Against Dean.

It all felt so wrong.

They shouldn't have to protect themselves against Dean. Dean shouldn't be a demon.

Sam hadn't mentioned one thing, and he asked now, his voice trembling.

"Is he working for Crowley?"

Sam shook his head. "Not really. I don't think so – I don't think anyone can tell him what to do".

Bobby thought he was right.

"And he wants to kill you?"

"I – want him saved. I stand in the way. He's been enjoying himself".

Bobby didn't want to ask what that meant. But it was clear that Dean didn't care, not about his brother, not about him.

There was someone else, though.

"We need to get hold of Cas".

Sam let himself fall on his bed.

"I have tried. He always answered more quickly when Dean called him, but still – it's been months".

That meant that Cas couldn't come, and Bobby, with another stab of pain, realized that Sam was most likely right and he was dead.

He had lost two of his boys today.

Unless Cas chose not to come. But why would he?

"Sam" he asked, more out of hopeless desperation than anything else, "what did you tell him?"

Sam looked up.

"Tell him?"

"What did you tell Cas? He might have heard that Dean is dead – didn't you say that another angel killed him?"

Sam nodded.

"Maybe he knows he can't bring him back, or thinks he can't, and he stays away".

He saw the hurt in Sam's face. He would be angry that Cas stayed away if what he'd said was true – to be honest, there wasn't much to make him think it was, but he would cling to every hope he had – but they had to get the angel here. There had to be some way he could help.

Sam bit his lip and looked away, and Bobby knew he would have to talk about something he had never thought he'd talk about.

"You know why he won't come when Dean's gone".

It was hard to imagine the angel moping somewhere, but that was exactly what was to be expected.

Sam looked surprised.

"Don't act like you never thought about it. I did".

The younger Winchester contemplated his words for a few moments and then nodded.

"When he was human – I expected – " He broke off, the memory of hopes gone by too much.

"I'll try to call him again" he said, resolutely.

Bobby sat down beside him, hoping that his presence would give him some comfort in case Cas didn't show.

He didn't. But then, with his wings gone, he couldn't.

But a few minutes after Sam's prayer, his phone rang.

He picked up, and for a moment Bobby was worried he would scream at the angel, which was never a good idea. But Sam simply started to talk, everything Bobby had just heard explained again, and Cas didn't interrupt him once.

Bobby wondered how he felt. He was certain that Cas had – that Dean was very important to him; he must suffer as much as he and Sam at the thought that he was a demon.

Even now, after having seen it with his own eyes, part of him didn't want to believe it.

Dean. Kind. Loyal. Protective. Smart. Loving.

A demon.

He tried to concentrate on the conversation between Sam and Cas. Freaking out wouldn't help them.

When Sam described how Bobby had come back, he finally heard an exclamation at the other end of the phone, but Sam quickly assured the angel that he had tested him and that he was indeed himself.

Then, his voice trembling, he told him what had taken place in his motel room, and when Cas answered with one sentence, he all but screamed, "Don't say that! We'll fix him".

The Cas Bobby knew would have said something insensitive, oblivious that it was so, and enraged Sam further; but he seemed to have learned something since he had been gone, for he agreed with Sam and told him he would be there soon.

"How will he – "

"Probably steal a car" Sam answered.

Bobby shook his head. "An angel stealing a car. Just when I thought I had seen everything".

Sam flashed him a weak smile, another one that didn't reach his eyes. He hadn't really smiled since Bobby had come back, and he suspected for quite some time before that.

Not that he felt much like smiling himself.

"Have you got anywhere?"

Sam would know he meant research. Sam would have read every book, studied every text, he just had to have found something that could help Dean.

He hesitated.

"There is... There is an old recipe for curing demons. Not the one I tried on Crowley" he added quickly when he the face Bobby made, "Older. It took me a while to find. But I'm not sure it would work on him. And it's dangerous... For both the demon and the one who tries to cure him."

He didn't even mention another problem, which was to capture Dean. He was strong. And if the Mark had special effects, which it almost certainly had, he would probably get out of normal devil's traps. Although the salt rounds had worked on him, so he wasn't invulnerable.

But what then? Dean wouldn't let himself be cured. He liked being a demon. Sam had said he had been enjoying himself.

They could summon Crowley, but they couldn't force him to help them, and there was no reason he should want Dean to be cured. Not unless Dean threatened him. And Bobby couldn't think why he would do such a thing as a demon. Crowley was too clever to annoy him. He would certainly give him no reason to attack him.

Things didn't look good.

They would try, though. If it was the last thing they did.


	4. Chapter 4

They decided that it would be more practical to rent another room with two single beds than to protect two; and immediately went to the manager, who was more than ready to accommodate them as long as Sam paid his room for another night. They raised no objection.

As soon as they were settled, they got to work. They didn't think much about painting symbols on the floor, ceiling and walls since they wouldn't let a maid in, and by the time it was discovered, they would be long gone and untraceable through their fake credit cards.

Sam carried a lot of books that had once belonged to his library with him, and Bobby spent a few hours looking up every protective symbol he could think of. Despite the most diligent research, Sam didn't know exactly what the Mark of Cain did; it was better to be prepared for everything.

When they had finished painting and salting the room, it looked like the barn he and Dean had first met Cas in.

Another time when Dean had come back from the dead. But it had been their Dean then, not a demon.

And yet – It was still a surprise to Bobby to look around and only see Sam next to him. Dean belonged with them, not out there doing God knew what.

They had to find a way to save him. They just had to.

He knew, of course, what Dean would have wanted. They were fighting a powerful demon. They should kill him.

Dean would have wished it. Dean would have asked them to. But Sam had held the knife against his throat once and had been unable to do it, after which, he told Bobby, Dean had simply shrugged and vanished, and the older hunter had barely been capable of pointing the gun at him.

Through an unspoken agreement, neither of them prepared for bed. They knew Dean would come back. It might have been instinct; it might have been fear; but they both felt certain that the older Winchester would come back at night.

He kept them waiting. It was an old hunter's technique, of course, to let the prey wait, make it hope, make it panic.

They sat on their beds and spoke little.

Eventually, after four am, there was a scratching at the window.

Bobby remembered that it was right under the fire escape, unavoidable because it had been the only available room with two singles.

"Guys".

Dean didn't shout, he didn't scream, he didn't demand to be let in.

He did something far worse.

"Come on, it's me. Sammy, Bobby. Let me in. Let's have a beer, talk about it". He saw Sam jump, but he made no move towards the window.

"It's cold. Let me in. Please".

This voice – so vulnerable, so human, so _Dean_ – Bobby would have preferred it if he had tried to break open the door. He sounded unsure, like he had when he had appeared on his front step all these years ago after he had come back from Hell.

"Please" he repeated. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. I don't even know who I am anymore. I mean, I have this feelings – and the blade... I need help. Open the window. Sammy, think about how I drove you to hospital on my bike that one time. Bobby, remember how often we fixed Baby together?"

And it went on and on. Memories rushing through their minds as the whispers at the window grew ever more insistent. More than once, their hands twitched because he sounded so much like Dean, like he really wanted to talk, to find something that could help him. He never grew forceful, or angry. He pleaded.

Whenever Dean had begged something of him, Bobby had done it. While he loved both the boys dearly, Dean had always had a special place in his heart; and to know that he was only a few feet away –

Sam was staring straight ahead. He didn't look towards the window. Sometimes during the night, Bobby wasn't sure if he even breathed. He held the knife in his hand. His knuckles had grown wide a long time ago, but he felt no pain. He acted like he didn't hear Dean but it was clear he was conscious of every word.

And they continued to pour in. At some point, Bobby was ready to run to the window and let him in only to make it stop.

He was starting to think that whoever had resurrected him hadn't done it out of benevolence.

This was worse than Hell. This was worse than any hallucination Crowley had ever given him. In Hell, he had been able to tell himself that it wasn't really. That Sam and Dean were together, were fighting. That they weren't demons.

Dean beseeching them to remember made him recall the times he had watched him chase his little brother around his yard; when he had played ball with him, not caring what John wanted; when he had made sure they had good meal at the end of the day.

How Dean had come back from the dead.

How often they had come to his house to rest.

He had never really believed in God, and after he had met Cas, he had come to think of him not very highly.

Considering their present circumstances, he was inclined to see that as an understatement. How could the bastard have allowed that to happen to Dean?

He left at sunrise. To disappear once it got light was probably just another way to hurt them, to remind them that he was one of the monsters they had hunted, but they were relieved. And ashamed at being so.

At Bobby's insistence, Sam lay down and tried to get some rest. He couldn't, which was probably hypocritical, but he didn't care.

Cas wasn't that far off. They expected him to arrive today. Together they could figure something out.

He tried to read. While any surprise of finding out that things he hadn't believed in existed had spent itself years ago, he had never given the legend of Cain and Abel much credit until Sam had told him Dean had taken the Mark; and there was very little information to be gleaned on that point.

He went through the ritual Sam had shown him again and again. It was indeed dangerous. He had already decided that he would be the one to try. Dean would fight, and he didn't want Sam to fight him.

Eventually he decided he should try to sleep. He didn't feel tired, but he knew he needed it.

Against all odds, he managed to fall sleep. They were woken by a knock on the door at sunset; and Bobby, motioning towards Sam to stay back, walked towards it, his sawed-off in his hand.

"Yes?" he asked.

"It's me" Cas answered, and Bobby opened immediately.

Cas looked awful. He was leaning against the doorpost, sweating, pale. Bobby pulled him in.

"Bobby" Cas said as he led him to the bed. "I didn't expect to see you again".

"You and me both" he replied. Sam was at their side in an instant.

"What's going on?"

"The Grace I took. I am dying" Cas said simply, and Bobby gripped his shoulder tighter. How much more could they take?

"You should lie down" he suggested, but Cas shook his head.

"Dean" was all he said, but they understood him. Bobby told him what had happened during the night, Sam supplying additional information when he felt equal to it.

At the end of their story, Cas was even paler than we had come.

When Sam showed him the ritual, he looked sceptical, but agreed that they had to try.

There was pain in his eyes that was almost too raw to watch, and Bobby wondered if anyone could comprehend an angel's sorrow.

"We have to catch him" he said firmly "and it ain't gonna be easy".

"I'll help" Cas stated. "I am – I'm not as strong as I used to be, but I will help".

He turned to Sam.

"The Impala?"

"It disappeared at the same time as Dean" Sam said bitterly, but there was something like relief in his voice as well that Bobby understood only too well. Dean taking the car meant that he still cared, that some part of him had survived turning into a demon.

"The trunk should be strong enough to hold him" Cas said slowly, "If Dean hasn't got rid of the protection".

It was likely, but at the same time it was their best shot. They had piled protection over protection on that trunk, had even trapped one of the seven deadly sins in there.

They had to find it first. Of course they could wait for Dean to show up again, try to incapacitate him and afterwards look for the car; but it was preferable to already have means of trapping him before another confrontation.

None of them said it, but they all knew.

They would have to go out.


	5. Chapter 5

After half an hour of rest, Cas declared himself well enough to accompany them. Neither Bobby nor Sam tried to convince him to stay in the room, although they didn't agree with him. Cas wouldn't stay behind when they went after Dean.

The town wasn't big, but they were still looking for one car amidst many. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, and they couldn't separate because encountering Dean alone would be too dangerous.

They took the car Bobby had stolen; he had put up some protection, and Dean didn't know it was his yet. They didn't talk much, focusing on looking for the Impala. They went through the streets systematically, first the main, then the smaller ones.

Cas was in the backseat, leaning against the window. No complaint passed his lips, but Sam and Bobby could see that he was far from well.

_I'm dying._

Bobby had believed that nothing could hurt him after this night. He had been wrong.

_I'm dying._

The words kept repeating themselves in his mind; he couldn't help but wonder what Dean would have said if Cas had told him. Cas was an angel. He was the one they weren't supposed to lose. He had come back from the dead quite as frequently as Sam and Dean, but this time he obviously didn't expect to.

Bobby wanted to ask, but felt that he would be given no explanation other than the Grace that he had taken was killing him. He suspected that Cas wasn't even searching for a way out; that he had accepted death the moment he learned that Dean had died, and that finding out that he was a demon didn't change anything.

For a good reason. Dean was far gone.

Maybe too far.

But Bobby couldn't allow himself to think that. He could feel the desperation at the fringe of his mind, ready to rush in. The moment he let it, it would incapacitate him. And the boys needed him. He needed to be there for Sam. He needed to fix Dean. He needed to save Cas.

Just as he realized that he had been lost in thoughts when he should have been looking at cars, Cas quietly said, "Stop".

He did so immediately and they turned around.

"The last street to the right" Cas said with conviction and he immediately turned around, ignoring the horns of the cars behind him.

Cas had seen right. In a small side street, right underneath a street lamp, was the Impala.

It was dirty, and its bumper made it clear that it had been used more than once to push cars forward so the parking space would be big enough. Their Dean would have cried to see his Baby like this.

His hands clenched around the steering wheel as he parked at a little distance from it.

Sam left the car immediately, leaving Bobby to take care of Cas. Against his expectations, he got out by himself and had no trouble walking.

If there was anyone who could get into the Impala quickly without using the keys, it was Sam; and he had the car open before Bobby and Cas even got there. He opened the trunk and checked the symbols.

"Everything is in place".

"Why would he keep them?" Bobby asked frowning.

"Reaching into a devil's trap wouldn't have any disadvantage for him" Cas replied. "And I imagine that he keeps the trunk for demons who might happen to come his way".

Bobby could imagine that very well indeed, and he could imagine even better what Dean would do with them.

"There's a bar on the next street" he said, "Pretty sure he went there".

Both of them agreed and they went to get their weapons out of Bobby's car. That Cas accepted one was more evidence of how weak he felt, and Bobby attempted not to let the worry overwhelm him. One problem at a time.

They half-expected to hear the sounds of a fight, but as they neared the bar, all was silent. Bobby decided to see that as a good sign.

They had their guns hidden, but ready to pull them out at a moment as they entered.

Bobby's eyes needed to adjust themselves to the darkness of the bar, the street having been quite well lighted with street lamps, and he decided that whoever had resurrected him might as well have gone through the trouble of making him younger and fitter when Cas grabbed their sleeves and whispered, "Right in front".

And there was Dean, drinking and looking like he always had. Suddenly it was difficult to remember the night before, that they couldn't walk up and simply have a drink with him.

They had to get him out of the bar. Too many innocent people in the way.

"Let's talk to him" Cas suggested, and even though it was the worst possible idea, it was also the only one they had. Sam had the knife; they could try and make Dean leave the bar by showing it to him.

They did what they would have done if things had been as they should have been, and sat down next to Dean. He gave them an amused smile.

"Wanna have a drink on old times?"

He was in a good mood, at least, and didn't seem eager to kill them at the moment.

He eyed the angel.

"You look like Hell".

Cas didn't answer.

In fact he hadn't met Dean's eyes since they had sat down. Bobby saw in his hunched shoulders and his clenched fists the conscience of failure; he had failed to save the man he had raised from Hell, and he would never forgive himself for it.

"I guess you're not here to chat" Dean said. "So, why don't we – "

"Get out of here?" Bobby suggested.

Dean blinked, then laughed.

"Right, I forgot. You care".

He pronounced it almost like an insult, and Bobby saw Sam flinch from the corner of his eye.

"Would you do us the favour?"

Dean shrugged.

"Doesn't matter where I kill you".

It was said so casually, that the bartender, who overheard it because he had just walked up to collect the money for Dean's drink, which Sam handed to him because his brother made no motion to pay, apparently took it for a joke.

Dean strode out of the bar in front of them and made his way to his car. The side street was as empty as when they had parked, and he turned around, leaning against the Impala. His eyes turned black.

"What now?" he asked, disinterestedly.

They had to try. Dean wanted to kill them, had attempted to lure them out; and yet they had to try. There had to be something left of the boy who had laughed so happily while Bobby had explained to him how to fix cars.

"Dean..." he said slowly, and he knew he was pleading, and he didn't care.

The demon said nothing, only looked at him.

"Dean, please. We found a ritual. We can – "

"I know about it. Won't work".

"How do you know?"

He smirked. "Because I don't want it to".

"This isn't you".

The smirk fell away from his face, replaced by something like – regret? Pity? Was Bobby just deceiving himself, and it was hatred and annoyance? It was gone too quickly to be certain.

"No, it isn't. That's my point. What was I before? A dropout with Daddy issues and the weight of the world on his shoulder. I'd rather not go back to that, thank you very much".

Bobby thought he saw something move in the shadows, but couldn't be certain.

"But – "

"No buts, old man. I'm having fun". He laughed; not the laugh he knew so well, the one he had heard when Dean had been truly happy; a hollow laugh.

He knew then that talking was useless. They had to overpower Dean; but how, he didn't know.

Dean took out the blade. He advanced towards them slowly, convinced he had all the time in the world, and stopped a few feet in front of them, unsure who to attack first.

It wasn't until Bobby saw him frown that he realized something was amiss.

"Where is – "

Before Dean could finish his sentence, Cas launched out from the shadow of the Impala, and put his hand on Dean's forehead as he turned around.

A scream was ripped from Bobby's throat; Sam shouted as well; Dean crumbled on the floor and Bobby ran to him. He registered with relief that he was still breathing.

Cas was leaning against the Impala, and Bobby understood why he had been so silent. He had been saving his strength for this.

"We should be able to get him to the bunker" the angel said, and Bobby and Sam put Dean in the trunk.

He couldn't resist the temptation to make him as comfortable as possible after taking the blade.

Cas took the backseat to rest, and Bobby and Sam shared an uneasy look as the latter took place behind the wheel and started the car.


	6. Chapter 6

A tense silence settled over them once they were on the road. They stopped at the motel for a few minutes to pack; or rather, Bobby packed while Sam stayed with Cas.

He didn't care about the sigils; should someone else clean the room; they could not be traced and right now, an angry manager was the least of their worries.

He found that Cas had gained a little colour back by the time he returned; and once they were on their way to the bunker again, he slowly asked, "Did you know you could do that?"

"I was hoping I still had enough Grace left to knock Dean out" Cas replied simply.

"Could the blade have killed you?" Bobby inquired, turning around.

Cas shrugged, and the humanity of the gesture made something contract painfully in Bobby's chest.

"How are you feeling now?"

"I'm fine".

He must have picked that up from Dean too. Bobby didn't comment.

They were almost there when a distinct knocking could be heard. Bobby sat up straight, Cas paled and Sam almost hit a tree pulling over.

He wanted to get out, but Bobby immediately said, "Let me" and was at the trunk before Sam could even leave the car.

He wouldn't let Sam do this. He wouldn't let Sam hurt his brother.

Black eyes glared at him as he opened the truck. Dean couldn't leave, but he could immediately start trashing and demanding that he be let out.

Bobby didn't say a word, just let his anger and insults watch over him as he took one of the iron wrenches he always carried with him out of his duffel bag. He told himself that this wasn't Dean and raised his arm.

It took more than one hit to take him out. He had to bring down the wrench on his head again and again, each time accompanied by a sickening crunch. Dean kept screaming and fighting, and if Bobby could have paid attention to anything different than his blood running down his face, he would have been relieved that they had stopped at a street with virtually no traffic.

When Dean finally went still, he let the wrench drop. His boy was lying in the trunk looking white and still, blood clotting his hair, and he reached out before he could stop himself.

He ran shaking fingers through Dean's hair.

"It's gonna be alright, boy" he said quietly. "I promise".

When he settled down again, Sam was clenching the wheel and staring straight ahead. He tried to talk to him, but he shook his head.

He turned around; Cas was lying on the backseat, his back to Bobby, and for a moment, he thought he was resting, but then he saw his shoulders shaking.

He was seeing an angel cry.

He turned around, knowing that Cas wouldn't like to talk either. Sam started the car, and they were off.

When they arrived, Dean was still unconscious, but his wounds had healed. Sam and Bobby carried him in the bunker, Cas trailing behind them.

They almost went to Dean's room; Sam choosing the path, and Bobby not aware where they were going; but Cas reminded them that it wasn't safe, and after standing still for a moment, Sam led the way to the dungeon.

Strapping Dean on the chair was more difficult than they had anticipated, from the sheer desire of taking care of him; even Cas was constantly touching him to make sure he was still alive.

With the help of the angel, they made sure that the devil's trap was impenetrable before withdrawing to the living room to discuss their next move.

The ritual lay on the table before them. Blood from the demon, blood from a man was easy enough to procure; there were a few rare herbs that Sam assured him were to be found in the kitchen; but the last ingredient was more than enough to make them despair.

The essence of a living being.

They didn't even know what was meant by that; Bobby had taken it to be the essence of the one who performed the ritual, in other words, his life; and the text made it obvious that it wasn't a joyride for the demon either.

If things went from bad to worse, Sam and Cas would have two dead bodies on their hands. And with how things were going for Cas, Sam might have to arrange three funerals.

He was a tough kid, but Bobby didn't even want to consider the possibility that he might lose his brother for good.

Just as he was once more contemplating "The essence of a living being" Cas said, "My Grace".

"What?"

The angel had recovered; he was no longer breathing heavily and looked as stern as Bobby ahd always seen him.

"My Grace" he repeated firmly. "It's not my own, but it was ripped from an angel. It's what we're made off. It should do it".

It could. There was every reason to think it could. But it would mean Cas' end. Because, as he had pointed out, it was what he was made off – it wouldn't be ripped from him, leaving his meatsuit, it would be used up. He would be gone.

The thought alone of what Dean would say, human again and learning that his friend had died to save him, was enough to argue against the idea; but not only was Cas adamant, but it was their only option.

"Cas –" Sam said, in a voice full of emotion. The angel shook his head.

"I am dying. Let me die for Dean".

Sam hugged him, Bobby did as well.

"Thank you" the younger Winchester whispered.

Cas didn't seem to hear him, his eyes focused on the floor, his thoughts by Dean in the dungeon.

They quickly went through everything again and found that they had everything they needed; and Cas informed them emotionlessly that there was no time to lose since he didn't know how long he had to live.

So they went down to the dungeon.

Dean was awake and perfectly quiet, which was scarier than him being angry, Bobby decided. He looked at them perfectly composed; and when Cas stepped forward and said quietly, "Hello, Dean" he answered "Hi, Cas" as he had so often done in Bobby's lifetime.

Cas moved forward.

"We'll heal you".

It was a promise.

Dean chuckled.

"If you think so..."

"There's something left of you" Cas said softly, and not only Sam and Bobby were surprised; the demon mustered him in obvious shock.

"What?"

"You didn't kill Sam. You didn't kill Bobby. You commented on my appearance" Cas explained confidently.

Dean appeared confused, and it was only then that Bobby saw his retreat in a different light. Why would he find Sam and then abstain from killing him because "it wasn't worth it?" Why had he told Cas that he looked like Hell without any implication that would have made it an insult? Why hadn't he killed them immediately in the bar?

Cas was right. His boy was in there somewhere.

"Stop giving me these doe-eyed look, I'm not – "

"It's going to be alright, Dean" Cas said softly and cut him.

Bobby didn't even know when the angel had taken the demon killing knife. Judging by Sam's looks, he didn't either. But before they could move, Cas had used it to draw a little of Dean's blood, and put it away.

He looked at them questioningly, and before Sam could say something, Bobby went up to him. If he could help these two idjits, he would.

The cut barely hurt; especially because, when he looked at Dean, he saw that his eyes were slowly turning black, so slowly that he could see every second of change, and knew it was meant to hurt him. The blood was nothing in comparison.

Cas mixed the herbs and blood without saying a word.

Dean, meanwhile, grew talkative.

"Come on, Cas. You know I'm not such a bad demon; you said it yourself. Why should you heal me? There are things I could give you that my human self never thought about..."

Cas' hands trembled, but he made no reply. Sam and Bobby helped him as best as he could; finally, he said, "You'll have to close your eyes" and pulled out his angel blade.

"What are you doing?"

There was fear in Dean's voice now, and Bobby couldn't decide whether it was a good or bad thing. He struggled against his restraints, and against his better judgement, Bobby felt his hand twitch. Sam was no better off, coming to stand behind him so as not to make a rush for his brother.

Cas raised the blade slowly.

"Bobby, Sam" he began, and the older hunter understood that this was goodbye. He didn't even try not to cry. One of his boys had to die so another could live.

"Tell him..." he trailed off, then continued, not listening to Dean's monologue about how he could change and that the ritual wasn't necessary, "Tell him I'm glad he's okay".

With a quick motion, he drew the knife across one side of his neck, and they had hardly time to close their eyes before a blinding light filled the dungeon.

They heard Dean scream and a thump on the floor, and they opened their eyes to find Cas on the floor and Dean hanging lifelessly in his chains.


	7. Chapter 7

One glance was enough to see that Sam ran towards Dean; Bobby kneeled down by Cas' side. He didn't have any hope that something could be done, but he couldn't let him lie there.

He touched him, expecting him to be as cold as he'd been after sending the souls back to Purgatory, but he was still warm.

He told himself it was ridiculous to hope, but reached out to take his pulse anyway.

A small flutter under his fingertips, weak enough that at first he believed it to be the beating of his own heart.

"He's got a pulse" he breathed at the same time that Sam screamed "He's alive!" and he repeated himself.

Sam was drawn between caring for his brother and his friend, and Bobby quickly said, "I'll take him to a room. Do the tests".

Sam nodded and was already opening a bag by the time Bobby reached the door.

In truth, he had a far more selfish reason not to be there.

He didn't want it to have been for nothing. He didn't want to see the sparks when Sam cut his arm; he didn't want to know that Dean was still a demon.

Not when Cas could still die for it. His pulse hadn't strengthened, and he was barely breathing.

He didn't know what to do. He could easily treat a human, but angels? Was that even Cas? Maybe his Grace had taken him with him and this was his vessel. But wasn't the guy dead? He could have sworn one of the boys had said something like this...

He stayed for a few minutes and soon felt sure that his pulse was getting stronger. He left him reluctantly, but he had to see how Sam was doing.

He found him half-laughing, half-crying, untying his brother.

Hating himself for saying it as the words left his mouth, he asked, "Is this a good idea?"

"He didn't react, Bobby. No spark or something like that. And there was no reaction to salt either".

It was dubious that he knew what he was doing and explaining, and he blindly tore at the restraints. Bobby helped him and they carried Dean to his room. When Sam saw his brother laid out on his bed, he had to turn away, and Bobby realized it must look like the day Dean died.

Nothing could get the younger Winchester to leave his brother's side. Bobby didn't even try; the last time he had left Dean alone he had disappeared.

"Look after Cas" was all he said, and Bobby left to do just that. He had left the angel alone for too long already. What if he...

But Cas was breathing evenly, and his heartbeat seemed to grow stronger every second. All Bobby and Sam could do was wait.

And wait they did. Through the whole night, never closing their eyes, Bobby the only one to occasionally leave his place to inquire after Dean or urge Sam to take some nourishment which he always declined.

At sunrise, Cas' eyelids fluttered. He thought he would open his eyes, but he didn't, and Bobby was beginning to think that he had imagined the motion, when suddenly he was looking into the bright blue eyes he knew so well.

"Bobby?" he inquired quietly, confused.

"Yeah, kid, it's me" he said, immediately reaching out to check Cas' pulse, and to his relief finding it normal.

"Dean?"

He trembled as he pronounced the name, and Bobby gently brushed his hair out of his face, like he had often done for Sam and Dean when they had been children.

"He's unconscious" he told him, "but we think it worked."

Cas immediately tried to sit up, and Bobby's pleas wouldn't have prevented him from doing so if he hadn't been too weak.

"Rest" he ordered, "I'll get you some water."

Before he did that, though, he hastened to Dean's room.

He looked like he was sleeping now, and Sam was mustering him with hope.

"Cas is awake" Bobby said quickly. "Weak, but okay".

"That's good" Sam smiled. "Do you think..." he trailed off, his eyes returning to his brother.

Bobby patted his shoulder.

"He'll wake up soon". He wanted to believe it. And Cas waking up had to be a good sign.

The angel was trying to sit up when he entered, and he gave him a bottle of water and scolded him into lying down again.

"There's nothing you can do".

"No" Cas replied softly. "There's nothing".

It was said with such conviction that Bobby asked, "Cas, what's going on? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're still here – but how?"

"My essence is gone."

"You're here – "

"I mean my Grace."

"But didn't you say – "

"Everything that made me angelic is gone" Cas explained.

"So you're human?"

He nodded.

Bobby hesitated. Sam had told him what he needed to know, but by no means everything – they hadn't had the time.

"Like you were when your Grace was ripped from you?"

Cas shook his head.

"I couldn't steal another Grace now. My body wouldn't hold it".

My body. No more vessel. How human he sounded.

"And you're alright?"

"I'm not going to die" Cas replied carefully, and Bobby pulled him into a hug spontaneously.

He pulled back and asked, when he saw that he could sit up on his own, "Do you want to go see Dean?"

Cas all but fell off the bed before Bobby could react. He had to support him to Dean's door, but Cas didn't seem to be worse for the journey, and he knew that nothing could keep him from seeing his boy.

"Cas!" Sam exclaimed and hugged him; Cas hugged back, then staggered to Dean's bed and sat down on the chair Sam had previously occupied.

Bobby motioned towards Sam and, though reluctant to leave, Cas' presence was enough to allow his absence for a few minutes.

Bobby quickly explained everything.

"I guess we'll have two new residents at the bunker". Sam smiled weakly. "The last time..."

He stopped himself.

"Dean'll be happy that he's here when he wakes up" he continued, and Bobby noted how much force he put on the "when". He didn't contradict him. Dean had to wake up.

He didn't, that day.

Nor on the next.

For three days, he was asleep. They would have watched over him in shifts if not every one of them had been eager to be with him as much as possible. Sam only left the room when absolutely necessary, and Cas at times seemed as oblivious to the need for food and drink as he had been when he'd been an angel.

On the few occasions Bobby could persuade him into the kitchen, he spoke of nothing but Dean. The situation of Heaven, Hell – it was nothing in comparison. Bobby had never been much for praying, not even for Cas, but he prayed now.

Please let Dean wake up. These two idjits need each other.

On the end of the third day, Dean opened his eyes.

They were all in the room; Sam noticed it first; and with a shot he jumped up and ran to his brother's side. For a moment, he was blocking the view, but Bobby stepped aside and saw that his eyes were green.

His first word was enough to make Bobby sure.

"Sammy?" he croaked.

He would never have pronounced his brother's name like that if he were still a demon. Dean was back.

He hadn't seen him or Cas yet, Sam launching himself at him preventing him from noticing them; but when Sam finally pulled back, tears in his eyes, he said, "Someone's here".

"Cas?"

He sounded hopeful, and the old hunter saw the joyful expression of the former angel. He smiled.

"Yeah" Sam said, "and someone else". He stepped aside, and Dean saw Bobby.

His eyes widened.

"Bobby?"

"Good to see you" he said, stepping towards the bed.

Dean tried to sit up, but was too exhausted, and Sam quickly assured him that Bobby was really Bobby.

Then his eyes turned to Cas.

"Hey".

"Hello, Dean".

He laughed, then coughed.

"I feel like I have been asleep for –"

And then he remembered. Bobby had hoped, against all experience he had hoped, that Dean wouldn't remember, that he would be spared from memories that would only bring guilt. But of course it wasn't to be.

"I was – " he was in obvious pain, and Bobby touched his shoulder.

"It wasn't you".

"But I – "

"It wasn't you" he repeated. It was clear that Dean didn't believe him, but he calmed down, at least for the moment.

It would be a long road. There could be no doubt of that. Dean felt responsible for everything at the best of times, and Bobby didn't even want to begin to think about things he might have done when he had been a demon.

"Dean" Cas said, taking his hand. "It's going to be okay".

They looked into each other's eyes, and Bobby suddenly had the feeling that he was intruding on a private moment.

Sam obviously felt the same, excusing himself to get Dean something to drink and eat, and he followed him.

Sam stopped in the corridor.

"He's back" he whispered, "He's back".

Bobby nodded, and Sam started to cry. Teary-eyed himself, he drew him into a hug.

When they returned with the food, Dean looked comfortable, and Cas was staring at him like always.

Later, they left Sam and Dean alone. The brothers had to talk, and talk alone, like they had done so many times when they needed to clear the air, and Bobby, knowing there were many more days to come, was glad to wait a little longer for his time with Dean.

As he was looking through the cupboards, he heard Cas call "Bobby!"

He all but ran into the living room and found Cas with a note in his hand.

He showed it to him wordlessly.

_Just because Heaven is closed doesn't mean I can't get in.  
G._

"Is that –" Bobby began, but Cas interrupted him.

"Gabriel, most likely."

"Why would an archangel resurrect me?"

"You made Sam call me, didn't you?" he inquired.

"He called you before."

"With the right words, I mean" Cas continued.

Bobby shrugged.

"We needed you" Cas added, "Sometimes it is as simple as that".

Before they could get even more emotional than the already were, Bobby pulled him into the kitchen, determined to show him the ropes of being human.

Hours later, long after the sun had gone down, Sam exited Dean's room and went into the living room where Bobby and Cas were reading.

"He's asking for you" he said, and Bobby stood up immediately.

Dean was sitting up in bed, and he smiled when Bobby came in, although there were shadows behind his eyes. An amulet Bobby knew well was hanging around his neck; the older Winchester had told him that he'd thrown it away, but here it was. Sam must have kept it.

"Thank you" Dean said immediately.

"Just did what I had to, and really, without Gabriel, I wouldn't have been able to do it".

"Gabriel?"

"According to Cas, he brought me back".

"Will have to think about the whole hating him forever because he killed me hundreds of times thing" Dean mumbled.

"How are you, boy?" Bobby asked, sitting down on the bed.

"I'm alive. And human. So I guess I'm good."

"That wasn't my question".

"I know" Dean replied, not catching his eyes.

"It wasn't you" Bobby said once again, "and we're gonna tell you until you believe it".

A smile told him that Dean didn't think that probable.

"Don't worry, I'll drill it into that skull of yours. After all – " he hesitated, though only for a moment, "What's a father for?"

Dean hugged him, and Bobby ignored his tears as well as his own. They talked for hours, Dean insisting that he wasn't tired.

Bobby could see it all, everything that lay before them; Dean getting healthy, learning to come to terms with having been a demon; Crowley was out there; Cas was human.

There were so many struggles ahead.

But, as he looked into his boy's eyes, he decided he was ready for every single one of them.


End file.
